


who tousled your dark hair in disarray (kdo vám tak zcuchal tmavé vlasy)

by shizuruu



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Flashbacks, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, estabilished past sexual relationship, post sunset with orihara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 13:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6987115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shizuruu/pseuds/shizuruu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>izaya is turning 29 soon. he has since moved to the countryside and tried to forget events of ikebukuro. the past comes back to haunt him in the form of shizuo heiwajima arriving by train and planning to stay for a week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	who tousled your dark hair in disarray (kdo vám tak zcuchal tmavé vlasy)

**Author's Note:**

> title and quote from antonín sova's poem "kdo vám tak zcuchal tmavé vlasy"

**(kdo vám tak zcuchal tmavé vlasy | who tousled your dark hair in disarray)**

 

they don’t give him enough painkillers. his arms hurt more than his legs despite there being no solid reasoning behind it. his legs - he doesn’t feel them. maybe it’s for the better. he doesn’t want to look at his legs, still afraid that he won’t find them there even though the doctors said “it’s alright, amputation wasn’t necessary.”. 

 

he feels fingers on his wrist gripping tightly and - 

 

he remembers. he doesn’t get enough painkillers because they don’t want him to get addicted and because they react badly with the antidepressants they’ve put him on again. his arms hurt. 

 

his thoughts run urgently despite the sleep clawing at his eyelids, he feels and sees and hears and thinks - too much. he doesn’t try to dispell the thoughts.

 

he failed.

* * *

  
  


**(když ona přišla na můj sad, vše právě odkvétalo | to my orchard she came when everything wilted)**

 

they find each other again, as natural disasters do. it isn’t that they purposefuly seek each other out, it’s just that they’re drawn to each other, former forces to not be reckoned with. shizuo is travelling and izaya is in kanto. he has since moved away from the town, to a remote village. the paranoia thrumming in his ears at every corner drove him out, the sense of uselessness, lost youth, all too much to handle. he settled in a small cottage close to the local shrine. albeit it’s a bit harder to move around in the small village, he has since learnt to use his crutches better and he doesn’t need to walk a long distance to the shop either. 

 

shizuo arrives by train. his hair looks softer and it’s no longer brown. he is wearing civil clothes and he looks strange, older. izaya notices him while limping back home. 

 

he doesn’t know what it is that he feels first. is it relief, hatred, fear? his chest feels tight and he finds it hard to swallow. his hands ball up into fists and he starts moving again, this time with more fervor.

 

“izaya!” he hears.

 

izaya turns around. 

 

“so it really is you,” shizuo continues and doesn’t make any steps towards him. 

 

izaya would reply, maybe a taunt or maybe a simple hello but all words get stuck in his throat. in the end he squeezes out:

 

“what are you doing here?”

 

shizuo has a duffel bag in his hand. 

 

“i’m travelling. i’ll only stay for a week.”

 

izaya nods and turns around to go home. he grips the crutches tightly in his shaky hands and forces himself to move. shizuo doesn’t call out to him, doesn’t follow him. izaya can almost pretend he wasn’t there, except his palms are clammy and his legs send out a phantom pain to his spine. 

 

* * *

 

**(ó proč tak pozdě? řek jsem k ní. poslední slunce na síti | oh why so late? i said to her. last sunshine web**

**zvony mi v mlhách umlkly, jsou ptáci v travách ukryti | bells with fog are quiet and birds hold their breath)**

 

monday and tuesday pass without izaya running into shizuo. izaya still takes his daily short walk, still visits the shrine and still goes shopping but there’s no sight of the man he once loathed. he almost feels as if what happened on sunday was just a dream, but then he remembers the panic clawing at his throat. he sits on a bench next to the shrine and waits until the local stray cat approaches him. she’s small, brown with a soft white tail. she rubs against his leg cautiously, watching out for his hands. she doesn’t like to be pet but izaya doesn’t particularly mind. it’s late in the afternoon now, the leaves of trees shivering above him as sunlight flickers across his face with the wind rustling its shadows. 

 

it takes him too long to realize he’s not alone anymore. his insticts have become dull, his senses slow. the cat runs away as a person approaches.

 

izaya doesn’t have to turn his head to know who’s coming. shizuo sits down right next to him, only centimeters separating them. izaya takes a deep breath.

 

“did you follow me here?”

 

“i just wanted to see the shrine,” shizuo says. 

 

“i’m not talking about the shrine,” izaya replies.

 

“i know.”

 

“so?” izaya asks. 

 

“i’m really travelling. i didn’t get out of tokyo just because of you,” shizuo claims and takes out a cigarette. 

 

“don’t-” izaya stops him and moves to take the cigarette from him. when he realizes how close to touching shizuo with his hands he was-

 

“it’s hard to kick the habit,” shizuo shrugs and puts the cigarette back in the pack. 

 

“you need to move on,” izaya says. “i moved on, my life is…” he takes a breath “...different now.”

 

“have you really moved on though?” shizuo asks. 

 

izaya thinks about the nights spent awake just because he’s too afraid to fall asleep. he thinks about the attempt to overdose and about throwing up afterwards. he thinks about his arms which still hurt more than his legs sometimes even though they’re completely healed now. he thinks about ikebukuro and about how he hates this small uneventful village. he thinks about shaky hands and weak legs. he thinks about therapy that he refused to go to.

 

“i have,” he lies. 

 

shizuo nods and leans back with his arms behind his head. 

 

“everybody got closure,” shizuo begins, with closed eyes. “shinra and celty got married and went on honeymoon. the van gang split up but they’re happy i guess? my brother and ruri are having their first child. ryuugamine got to go home and the girl got a teaching job. the kida kid? he’s living with his girlfriend in kyoto now. all the people involved ended up happy and…”

 

“...we have an unfinished chapter,” izaya whispers. 

 

“yeah,” shizuo agrees.

 

“well it’s not my fault we didn’t get an ending.”

 

“your idea of an ending was killing me,” shizuo snarls and izaya ignores the way pain shoots up his spine, ghost of a memory.

 

“...or getting killed by you. i was many things but i wasn’t unfair,” izaya replies.

 

shizuo stands up. looks at izaya. izaya doesn’t feel bile rising in his throat but thinks he will if shizuo keeps staring.

 

“i was visiting people. i visited my mother. i visited my grandparent’s graves. i even found shishizaki on his holiday in japan.”

 

“you are looking for your closing chapter,” izaya finishes. “i can’t help you. i have changed.”

 

izaya gets up with some effort and walks away, clutching his crutches. 

  
  


* * *

 

**(že do daleka odplout chci kams na zelené ostrovy | that for faraway lands i long, where isles are green)**

 

“i am turning 29 in a week,” izaya mentions on thursday. they’re sitting in front of the shrine again, on the same bench, with a box of blackberries on izaya’s lap. izaya pops one into his mouth.

 

“you know, as a child,” he continues, without giving shizuo a chance to speak “i never thought i would make it this far in life. i mean, as a child that thinks about suicide and death, and grows up with that prospect on their mind constantly, it’s a shock when suddenly-” he imitates a bomb blowing up with his hands “-suddenly you’re 29 and you just don’t know what to do.”

 

“being mentally…” ill he wants to say, but his words fail him “you just can’t imagine yourself beyond the young crazed beauty that the movies like to present. it’s almost an image, an attractive angsty plot of a coming-of-age movie until you’re too old to be seen as such and they start threatening you with forced hospitalization in a mental ward with too much normalcy. in a place where they lock you up and force you to live a lie, but there’s nothing logical to complain about. it’s-”

 

izaya doesn’t finish the sentence. he isn’t sure he knew where he was going with it anyways, instead he leans back into the bench. shizuo steals one of his blackberries. izaya absentmindedly swats his hand away.

 

only after a few seconds he realizes what he had just done. not that shizuo seems to pay it any attention but izaya suddenly berates his body for not warning him, for not telling him this was wrong, this touch was dangerous, that fleeting moment of their skin meeting could destroy him. shizuo only seems to notice something having happened after izaya’s breath quickens, after his body goes slightly limp and his eyes stare into space. 

 

“izaya,” shizuo calls out softly. no response, as expected but shizuo doesn’t want to terrify izaya any further and it’s hard to do something without touching izaya or without being loud- (angry, furious, aggressive, his mind supplies for him). 

 

izaya hears shizuo saying his name but it’s more of an echo of an echo, a vague sound with no real meaning. he tries to fight through the foggy haze but every time his thoughts resurface he’s back to the fear, panic, pain and he’d rather stay safe, locked away from his own thoughts. 

 

“izaya it’s fine, nothing is happening,” shizuo says, a bit more loudly, but izaya doesn’t seem to hear him and if he does - he surely doesn’t let it show. shizuo doesn’t know what to do now, it’s getting late and izaya is limply sitting on a bench few steps away from his own house, a box of blackberries on his lap. he’s dissociating and the clouds have since started gathering and it’s surely going to rain.

 

shizuo is left with no other options.

 

(there are other options, his brain supplies, unhelpfully. like leaving him here, to get cold, fall ill, his already weak body would make it possibly dangerous. shizuo could smash a rock over his head, killing him instantly. shizuo could shake him so harshly until he snaps out of it. shizuo of the previous time, shizuo of the past would have done those. with no regrets and no second thoughts.)

 

shizuo sees no other options.

 

he takes the blackberries in one hand and lifts izaya up under the shoulders with the other one. izaya’s legs buck and shizuo, expecting it is nearly carrying him to the house. the door is locked so he has to balance izaya as he tries to look for his keys in his pockets. thankfully they’re there and shizuo unlocks the door to enter the small house.

 

he is hit with a sense of dread as comes inside. the room he enters is what he presumes to be the living room, quite big but cold, with little to no furniture. there’s unwashed dishes in the sink, waiting to be put in the dishwasher. there’s a small table in the kitchen and one solitary chair next to it. by the door, there’s izaya’s wheelchair, evidently unused for quite some time now but still there, waiting for a time when izaya will want to go further than just to the nearest shop. there’s a fireplace opposite to the door. there’s a couch by the window and a small conference table with a computer set up on it. at least some things haven’t changed but except for this there are no other signs of human life in the room. it’s so impersonal, in a different way than izaya’s shinjuku apartment was. it’s almost as if izaya is not set on staying here, shizuo would half expect to find a fully packed suitcase if he went into izaya’s bedroom now. 

 

shizuo sets the blackberries on the table and dumps izaya (still quite gently, especially to how he might have done it in the past) on the couch. izaya still seems to be out of it, blankly staring off into space but he can see his hands twitching slightly. 

 

it doesn’t look good.

 

shizuo isn’t sure what to do now. should he leave? leave izaya to wake up at a different place and panic? leave him in an unlocked, cold house in a bad mental state? should he stay? frighten him even more when he awakes?

 

shizuo isn’t good at solving problems. 

* * *

  
  


**(proč jdete vadnout na můj sad | why at my orchard are you wasting away)**

 

izaya isn’t asleep. he’s vaguely aware of shizuo touching him again and he sees that something around him is changing but he can’t really make any connection between those two and his thoughts keep swimming away. he feels as if he’s dissolving. 

 

when his thoughts come back to him, he tries to sit up, his reflexes tell him to run but his legs are even less reliable than usual and he ends up falling on the ground. he sees shizuo looking at him from the kitchen, sees him coming closer and stops breathing.

 

he feels it again, the dusty smell of ikebukuro, the flickering lights and way too many faces, the pain in his legs and his body and the sheer terror because he can’t move, he’s defenceless and shizuo is coming closer, coming closer to finally kill him and he may pretend to be brave but it doesn’t work and he tries to move away. 

 

shizuo sees this. shizuo recognizes the panic in izaya’s eyes and he would almost feel sorry but he only feels pity. he stops, drops to izaya’s level. outstretches a hand.

 

“we’re not in ikebukuro izaya. this is your house, you’re safe. i took you inside because it was about to rain, remember?”

 

izaya tries to remember. izaya really does but the only memories on his mind are those of pain, scorching hot and frightening, of blinding lights and rage and sweat and blood and blood and blood and-

 

“izaya i need you to focus. look at your hands. what do you see?” shizuo interrupts.

 

izaya does look down. he sees his hands indeed, no rings on his hands, no blood either. they seem intact, not broken not battered, clean. 

 

“they’re not broken right? that’s because you’re just having a flashback,” shizuo continues. “look at your legs. they’re healed already, see?”

 

izaya looks. they seem alright, they seem healthy but his mind is flashing with pain and it doesn’t make any sense. 

 

“let me help you up okay?” shizuo asks and although izaya doesn’t answer, he still takes his hand and helps him up on the couch. 

 

“do you have any blankets in here?” shizuo tries, but izaya, despite hearing what the says, doesn’t answer. shizuo guesses it’s okay then for him to look for one since it’s for izaya’s own good after all. he opens a door and luckily it’s the bedroom. he takes a blanket from the bed and takes it back to the couch. meanwhile izaya has started shaking, whether it’s because of the cold or because of the anxiety, shizuo doesn’t dare guess. 

 

he wraps the blanket around izaya, this time warning him beforehand with words. 

 

izaya lets him this time, doesn’t back away from his hands and doesn’t shy away from the touch. he lets himself be handled, lets shizuo position him on the couch in a more comfortable way. there’s still the urgency on his mind but he slowly realizes this is fine. he’s home. he’s (relatively) safe. 

 

he suddenly feels cold, coming down from the space his mind went to, realizes his surrounding, hears the patters of rain on the windows and despite the blanket he’s still shivering.

 

“sorry,” izaya apologizes, the first thing he’s able to squeeze out. he doesn’t stop shaking, wrapping the blanket more tightly around himself.

 

“hmm,” shizuo hums because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

 

a crackle of thunder sounds through the small room. izaya drowsily looks outside through the window, seeing the storm outside. it has since begun to intensify. 

 

“you can stay until the storm is over,” izaya says, slowly. he wouldn’t offer this otherwise but he feels the need to repay the kind act. 

 

“okay,” shizuo nods and goes to the fireplace, attempting to start a fire. after a few minutes of hushed swears (and really, izaya thinks, some things have remained the same) he finally closes it, with fire crackling inside. 

 

shizuo awkwardly goes to sit at the kitchen table but izaya stops him. 

 

“it’s fine, there’s enough space on the couch,” and he moves his legs to the side. 

 

“i don’t think that’s a good id-” shizuo starts but izaya interrupts him.

 

“it’s fine. i am not fucking broken,” he spits out the last word as if it’s a curse, a damocle sword hanging above his head. 

 

“i know.”

 

shizuo sits next to izaya on the couch. izaya takes his computer off the table with still slightly shaky fingers. he opens it and thankfully, electricity is still working despite the storm. he slowly gets down to typing something away. he closes the computer a few minutes later. 

 

“i bought you tickets for a train,” izaya says, staring blankly at the wall.

 

“i didn’t ask for any, i already have my train tickets for sunday,” shizuo protests.

 

“i know. i’m giving you these to leave tomorrow in the morning. you don’t have to worry about accomodation, they’ll provide you with it,” izaya continues flatly, still refusing to look at shizuo.

 

“why the fuck would i leave tomorrow, i still have a few days left here, we were getting along just fine and-” shizuo starts seething and notices the tension in izaya’s shoulders, realizing he needs to calm down.

 

“it makes no sense,” he whispers finally.

 

“listen, shizuo,” and it’s the first time izaya had said his name aloud and it feels like a spell being broken “we can’t pretend nothing happened. i am not here to provide you with a happy ending, you don’t have to relieve your guilt by keeping me company. you don’t owe me anything and i don’t owe you anything either, not anymore.”

 

“why do you-” shizuo begins but izaya keeps talking.

 

“you can’t come here and pretend nothing is going on. i am trying so hard, so hard, to let go of the memories, i’m trying to move on and live a new life so why did you decide to come here and ruin it,” izaya continues, now nearly hysterical.

 

“you’re too late now. you weren’t there when i stopped taking my meds, you weren’t there when i started obsessing over celty’s head, you weren’t there when i woke up in the hospital and thought my legs were gone because i couldn’t feel them at all and my mind was on fire. it’s not fair.”

 

* * *

 

**(vás tenkrát z jara čekal jsem | you i awaited back in spring)**

 

in ikebukuro, the air had a certain quality to it, dusty and rich, thick and burning. izaya breathed out slowly as shizuo slid out of him. he felt disgusting with sweat but couldn’t muster up the strength to get up and shower. so instead he lay in shizuo’s small bed, feeling like cigarette smoke was seeping in from the pillows to his bones. izaya’s brain felt slightly hazy, in a blissful way. he would have liked to rest but he knew that in less than ten minutes, shizuo would come back to his senses and kick him out.  

 

he decided to stay in bed for another two to three minutes and then leave. shizuo was laying on his side, back turned to izaya.

 

“how careless of you, shizu-chan,” izaya mumbled, running fingers along the knobs of his spine softly. “turning your back on your worst enemy.”

 

shizuo growled slightly but remained in his position, not cursing izaya out yet.

 

izaya decided to press his luck further. he pressed his head against shizuo’s neck, settling next to him like an oversized cat. 

 

“shizu-chan is being disgusting today. are you going soft on me?” izaya taunted.

 

“fuck off… not my fault you don’t recognize basic human decency,” shizuo snapped back and jabbed an elbow into izaya’s ribs. it wasn’t done with enough strength as to break his ribs but he could feel he would have a bruise the next day as it painfully hit him.

 

“stop pretending to be human, shizu-chan,” izaya smirked and hissed slightly as he touched upon his tender skin.

 

he went home later that night, breathing in the chaotic scent of ikebukuro. his hands felt clammy and he promised himself that he would cut any contact with shizuo outside of fighting, as it would be detrimental to his plan. it was getting out of hand anyways.

 

* * *

 

**(kdo vám tak zcuchal tmavé vlasy | who tousled your dark hair in disarray)**

 

shizuo doesn’t come back again after the storm. izaya presumes he has left the village, taking izaya’s words seriously. he isn’t disappointed, he tells himself, but at the same time, there’s a dull ache in his chest. he elects to ignore it.

 

his legs hurt more these days, they feel heavy like lead and izaya is barely able to reach the wheelchair in the morning. he has to start using it again even just for small things like going shopping or visiting the shrine next to him. whenever he looks at the bench there, he feels slight disappointment, as if he was expecting someone to be waiting for him there. he starts thinking about moving places, unrest in his bones. 

 

shizuo has really ruined his plans again. maybe izaya deserves it - most definitely, actually, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys the pain.

 

there’s a knocking on his door on sunday. his legs feel too weak but he limps to the door with the aid of his crutches. 

 

shizuo is standing there. of course.

 

there’s a duffel bag in his right hand. the other hand is behind his neck, he’s standing there awkwardly. izaya doesn’t let him in.

 

“i came to say goodbye”

 

“you’re leaving today then,” izaya nods and feels his arms getting tired.

 

“yeah.”

 

they stare at each other for a while in silence. izaya thinks about all the fights between them, all the rage and sex and hatred culminating here.

 

“i guess that’s it,” shizuo finally says. “see you.”

 

izaya closes the door. he hears steps, leaving. he waits until they are far enough until his legs finally give out and he’s on the floor, with his back to the door and he feels like sobbing but doesn’t.


End file.
